Porcelain Castles
by Mistress Moitie
Summary: A hero tired from his lifelong adventures escapes to a city far away from anything at all. It's here at his final stop that he hopes to live what's left in solitude, fade from existence. However the porcelain town has other things in mind - one last surprise that's a little more than he bargained for. Post Majora's Mask, slightly AU. Link/male!Sheik. Mature Content!
1. 1

Here's a little something different I'd been working on lately. This is a separate deal from anything else I've written, and guess what?

 ** _It's already complete!_**

This story is rated M for a reason with sexual content and themes of depression. But it's a nice story, I promise you, and I hope you all enjoy it.

I'm excited to share this short story with you and can't wait to hear what you think.

Thank you for visiting and thank you for reading.

* * *

 **Porcelain Castles**

* * *

 **1**

* * *

The sand was the whitest color he'd ever seen, sparkling when the rays of the sun hit each granule, soft and endless over the horizon. It was like champagne dust, cinnamon snow that swirled in the air with the breeze.

There wasn't a cloud in the sky and its blue faded out, bleached by the light, reflecting across every surface. The castle sat in the near distance, it and the buildings surrounding smooth and white too, the finish like giant sand dollars or textured porcelain.

But the colors there, cerulean blue tapestries that strung from the rooftops, provided shade and ornamentation and the flags that billowed from the castle's spiral peak, painted with a red eye, surveyed the landscape. And hung from the doorways were potted plants, a strange green that made him wonder how such could survive in this climate. It reminded him of back home, the forests, the gardens. However he pushed that thought from his mind.

There was a spiciness to the air, sweet too, almost like vanilla and ginger, and the central marketplace was alive with vendors, music, and freedom. He took the shawl he wore and wrapped it around the lower half of his face - the best he could do - he'd have difficulty hiding his eyes, that crystalline blue associated with outsiders, the people from that other place.

And he drifted into the crowd and he lost his name, lost his home.

That was the point of all this, really.

To disappear, be forgotten.

He walked to the furthest point of the town, leaned on an ornate iron fence, and closed his eyes as the salty air greeted his senses. This place, where desert met the ocean, was his last stop. And he breathed a sigh of relief, because he was finally done.

He had never felt such a pleasant breeze, slightly cooler than his own body temperature. He was hungry and tired but didn't care.. he'd stay this way for a while, blind to his past, blind to the future. Obscurity was what he wanted, and he'd fade away.. like the gulls just over the sea, flying into the distance.

No one bothered him, and strangely enough all who he encountered seemed pleased he traveled all this way to stay and kept the conversations short. Even the man he handed a pouch full of rupees to nodded just briefly and said,

"Welcome home."

And up the steps he walked, outside of the two-story building circling to a balcony. He opened the large blue-stained door, set his sword down on the table just by the window, and only gave it a fleeting glance before falling into the bed nearby. The bedding, white and clean was freshly made. The rug folded at the base of the bed, blue and light gray, a bit rough. He fell asleep like this, just before sunset, still dressed, boots still on. He slept like this, the most wonderful rest he'd had in a while, and he relished in the fact that he'd have nothing to do tomorrow.

Nothing at all.

* * *

He wasn't looking for it, he really wasn't. But you know those moments when you see something and it gets emblazoned in your memory forever? Like an image that's so bright it's still there even after you shut your eyes.

Those irises flashed at him from across the marketplace and he was paralyzed.

The long lashes fluttered and the vermilion eyes twinkled and it was only two seconds or so really, but that gaze stayed with him like a parasite.

It was that funny feeling you get, not sure if it's good or bad.

That kind.

He ignored it as he shopped for provisions to stock his new place with. Bought some fruit, breads, freshly caught fish. He only looked over his shoulder once or twice, but the vermillion eyes were gone, swept away by the crowds, bodies moving back and forth, this way and that.

The music was lovely that late afternoon, flutes and harps, bongo drums. He sat by himself at the furthest table, a small round one with seats only for two. The sky was painted a radiant orange, purple and coral.. there was laughter floating through the air. He sipped on some locally made wine, relaxed back in the chair, winced at the throbbing that started just through his upper arm.

The pain was still there, the one that sizzled through his forearm and up to his shoulder. He'd feel it for the rest of his life. Good thing he wielded his sword with his left, but even that he left at home. He hoped to leave it there forever. The arm was still good and he could use it as fine as ever, but the pulsating, twisting pinches he felt through the nerves there was like a constant reminder of all he had left behind.

And only at twenty-four, he thought. Battered and broken and tired only at twenty-four.

The girls across the way glanced at him through dim candlelight, at his physique they could see through the loosly fitted white shirt he wore, looked at his muscles that were always tense and never seemed to relax. He looked at them indifferently - the only woman he ever seemed to care about was a princess from a faded memory and even then the feelings only went so far. He could never get past that point, that point when you cared about someone more than as a friend. Or so he can recall.

Perhaps that's what heroes do, because if you love, well..

He'd already lost enough.

But no matter, now. It was all fuzzy anyway.

Turns out though, that we only have so much control over fate. Sometimes those vermilion eyes come calling for you and all you can do is grip the arms of you chair, bracing yourself for impact.

He knew he'd stand out in a town full of Sheikah but he didn't think it would only take a few days.

His eyes glanced down to his wine glass and he took another long sip but he was still looking over the rim of it.. why was he still looking! And he pinpointed the heat, the table at the opposite furthest edge of the outdoor tavern, and spotted the other, at a table for two with a seat empty, too. Lonely and a little bit awkward, taking small sips of wine and looking irritated with everyone else there. Finger tracing the swirling patterns of fancy tile that laid across the small table's surface.

The body was long and elegant, seated low on the chair, one leg on top of the other knee. And like a magnetic pull the eyes swept up and over, fixating themselves, unwavering, slightly intoxicated.

There could be nothing more unsettling.

And what do you do, when one looks your way? Do you cast your glance aside?

No.. that would show disinterest.

But wasn't he?

Disinterested?

And like the girls from earlier he tried to look most indifferent to it, but the faint trickle of warmness creeping up his neck and into his cheeks was very hard to hide.

It was the wine, he was sure of it.

And the long legs from across the room straightened themselves, and the stranger stood slowly. Took a slow swig from what was remaining in the glass and the last look from those vermilion eyes were narrowed, disappointed? No.. calculating. Confident.

Like someone who knows your cards.

* * *

The first time he had exposed himself was in the ocean.

Shirtless, he dove into the waves, honey-blonde hair that had grown out to his shoulders was wet, loose, free of its ponytail.

Strange thing is that at times he felt like he was drowning. He had glimpses of a tower under water with lots of locked doors. He felt the weight of something heavy on his feet, dragging him down, down, like iron.

But the water was beautiful and crystal clear, and when he'd come out from under it he'd see the sun and the sand dollar buildings, and the past would go away again.

It had been haunting him.

"Escaping something?" the voice had said from beside him later at the market.

He placed an apple in his basket and turned to the voice, "No," he said, "are you?"

He tried to ignore it as best he could, but the vermilion eyes demanded attention.

"I live here."

"So do I."

He waited for the stranger to mention how he didn't belong, didn't belong in a town full of Sheikah. To be reminded of the outsider he was with pointed ears, fair skin. Crystalline blue eyes to them like the rarest of jewels.

So he busied himself with the fruit for sale before him, but the other said nothing of the kind.

"I'm glad you came," was all that was said. Not 'go back to where you're from' or 'you don't belong here', no.. nothing like that at all. And vermilion eyes placed something in his basket, a ripened peach in the shape of a heart and said, "these are good this time of year," and with a soft blink of lashes and a gentle nudge to the arm the stranger flowed back into the steady stream of the crowd without looking back.

The peach sat there in the basket, rolling around slightly in the empty space beside the other lone apple - and he was mesmerized at the pair that didn't belong with each other but somehow made sense.

They were both delicious, both sweet. He wondered how an apple and a peach would taste together. Would they compliment each other? Would such a pairing be frowned upon, if each of their savory flavors would compete against the other?

Did he care?

And that was when he realized he didn't, and even if he did not eat either fruit that day, he set them atop the mantle near the kitchen window; the heart-shaped peach leaning against the ruby red apple. One would wonder why either were there displayed, but it was the fact that it didn't make sense that appealed to him.. the unlikely pair, leaning on each other because what was one peach and one apple, without the other?


	2. 2

**2**

* * *

There was a cliff jutting out just above the beach, not very high but just high enough, with a sandy surface sprinkled with wild grass. He'd found it the other day while lazily walking the shoreline, and he had decided to sit there about midday, while the sun sat at its halfway point and its rays would shine warmest. It was far away enough to be secluded, but the town and its spiraled castle peak could still be seen to the left, glistening like a mirage in the salted air.

Sorting through the compartments of his memory he relaxed here, sitting motionless, head back with the breeze rustling through his hair. He took long, deep breaths, shut his eyes without fear of the unseen. And this was where pieces of recollection floated through his brain, akin to fleeting thoughts as distant as a daydream from long ago.

Although he was only twenty-four, he had really lived about forty from what he could deduct, for there were seventeen or so years that he had experienced that had been plucked from his memories and he didn't know why or how.

He would escape them, push them away similar to a nightmare you must shake off upon waking. Yet there were times when he would let them pervade, because deep down he knew he was somebody else. As if these twenty-four years were simply a second chance.

The main reason he would think about this was mostly for deciding if he was living better than he did before, if that was at all the case. But how can one make for a better life if one did not know the first?

It was not of much consequence to him, really more like a nagging curiousity, and all who knew him back home would say he was carefree and kind, living each day with a sort of appreciation that didn't make sense to the others existing in the banality of their every day.

He didn't think about the hardships, all that he had endured, the scars that marked here and there on his chest and on his back, nor the one that swiped his right cheek. He didn't think much about that consistent pain that fizzled throughout his arm. They were there and what's done is done. He swore to himself he wouldn't linger on that once he had made it here, but the past is with us forever, all the same.

The clouds rolled in about two hours later, and he didn't notice it at first until he felt a few drops of rain splatter across his forehead and nose. He opened his eyes, waking from a nap he hadn't meant to take, and gazed at the horizon that loomed with dark grey thunder clouds, billowing in like the waves below. He stood and wrapped the blanket he had been resting on around his head and shoulders, and he took off in a light jog back to the town.

The thunder crackled in the distance.

He could hear the flags in the marketplace rustling, the fabric sweeping across the rooftops fluttering. The windchimes clanged back and forth, melodic and chaotic. The few vendors left outside were busily packing their things, the wind cutting through the narrow corridors blowing their produce and goods off their stands.

He abandoned the blanket he still held loosely across him and raced to catch the baskets and fruits and vegetables that proceeded to roll down the floor and away, and he came back with as much as he could to the busied shopowners, at which they glanced at him in surprise.

His face and ears were left bare - long Hylian ones, cream-colored skin, crystalline blue eyes as vast as the oceans themselves. Gold hair disheveled across his forehead, wisps blowing this way and that. He stood like a deity offering salvation to the vendors.

An older woman came forward first to accept his help and said, "We didn't know you were Hylian," her burgandy irises flickering about his form.

"I didn't want you to," he said, shrugging slightly and extending the basket to her. "Is it a problem?"

She only looked at him before taking the wicker and fruits from him, and before stepping inside a narrow doorway she gestured for him to follow.

The air was calm here and the hallway dark, but he could still hear the whistling of the wind outside through the walls, the crackle of thunder outside like blasts of strong magic in the sky. They walked for a time through the passageway, its interior curving and twisting like a hidden maze inside the town's structures.

"This happens in the spring, large storms that make the ocean wild," she said as she led him. "The wind stirs up the sands from the white desert, brings a dust cloud with it that could last for several days. Lots of rain when this happens, the water rises above sea level."

He only listened as she continued, "There are lots of passageways like this one throughout the town, to avoid going outside." She stopped briefly and glanced at him, "you best use them when the storm is here. Don't want you getting lost in the thick of it."

"I appreciate your help," he said.

"You saved my goods and I do what I can," she said. "This way," she gestured and they ducked under a small alcove. Here in the next expansive room lit only by candlelight was about thirty or so townspeople, drinking, eating, laughing. She left him and went over to a group of four or more at a table nearby, one out of about seven large ones that took up a good portion of the room. It looked to him like an inn's tavern, with a bar near the back, scents of spicy food permeating the air.

He'd have to find a way back to his own place with some help, as the passageways prior had meddled with his sense of what was left or right, up or down. But for now, he'd relax, so he found a table off to the side in a less crowded area.

He sat, brushed the lingering sand off his shoulders, off his thighs. He listened to the laughter nearby and smiled softly to himself, for he never liked being part of a large group but rather enjoyed the sound of them. The happy tones of conversation sparked something nostalgic within him, like the ones at the small farm he'd lived at for a while - part of a family but really not - when they'd gather for dinner each evening.

He'd ordered some wine from the girl who came by, but before going to fetch him some she said, "You're Hylian?" in an accent of Sheikah descent. It was thick and she eyed him curiously, and it almost seemed as if she wanted to sit beside him and talk. She didn't to his relief, and he softly replied to her, crystalline blue peering at her,

"Something give it away?"

And she gazed at him as if he were a mythic creature only read about and never seen.

Outcast? Rightly so. Just how he had wanted it.

"How'd you find us?" she asked eventually, still standing in place with a platter underneath her left arm.

"I just kept walking until there was nowhere left to go," he said.

"How'd you survive the desert?"

He shook his head, shrugged, silent for a moment until he said, "I don't know."

She nodded. "I'll get your drink."

"Thank you."

The wine was crisp and sweetly flavored once it had been brought, mulberries and raspberries with hints of almonds and honey. He sat there enamoured with the glass, its berry-red contents like a deep, dark pool.

Red like fire, like lava. A dungeon of flames. Red like a shining ruby, red like..

And the front door to the tavern blew open, sand and debris rolling in, and with it a person - cloaked in dark blue, the cape caught by the air - and said person was having a particularly difficult time getting the door to shut now, pushing the large wooden slab creaking on its hinges against the current of wind.

Some of the townsfolk got up, some gripped on to their glasses, plates, cutlery, as the gale roared through the tavern. But it was only he who ran to aid the person in need, and he went quickly, and vermilion eyes flashed beside him as he placed his hands against the door and pushed hard.

It was a static moment after that, the other breathing with heavy gasps.

"Ve tu a lani sa?" he asked. (Are you okay?)

Vermilion eyes said nothing for a time, a hint of surprise across his features. Finally he said, "Toku." (yes) "You know how to speak Sheikah?"

"A little bit," he said.

"How.." and before the other could finish he was beckoned by the owners, for it seemed like the large sack he had carried in with him held items of importance. He grabbed the sack, hoisted it over his shoulder and left to the bar, at which he engaged with a larger man and what could be the owner's wife.

A wife.

What was that?

At over twenty-four, he should have one.

Right?

But vermilion eyes looked at him from across the room, people talking but in a world all of his own, and that magnetic gaze elicited a feeling - it trembled through his thighs and wavered in his gut, and he stopped thinking about wives after that entirely.

* * *

"I've been watching you."

"I know you have."

The two sat together at the table in the corner of the room. The storm raged on, the drinks kept coming.

Vermilion eyes had sauntered over first, sitting down without even asking, two drinks in hand.

They sat respectfully apart, almost two feet away from each other at first, but as the night continued on and the storm lingered, two feet seemed to be getting smaller.

It was a sort of silent affair at first, both drinking, not talking much. The one with red eyes had a strangeness about him; very aware of himself, how his body moved. An elegance to his footsteps and a slight swing with his hips as he walked. He slithered like a snake, touches carefully calculated but feather light, and he could be a room away from you but he could still suffocate you with his presence. He smelled of nothing too distinct, but it must be what one would call pheromones - as if his skin produced a natural scent that was both enticing and inviting, so much so that it could be considered alarming to anyone who would wish to keep their guard up.

There was something special about him, and he couldn't stop himself from looking at him, from stealing glances. And vermilion eyes knew it too, because each time he'd look those eyes would catch his own of crystalline blue, but they sat this way for long enough until just the right amount of alcohol had passed through their systems.

That was when vermilion eyes had said in a slow drawl, "I've been watching you."

And that was when the other had said a bit quietly, cautiously, "I know you have."

The storm continued on outside but was muted by music that had begun to play, steady rhythmic percussion beats, incense and smoke wafted through the air, and not long after he had arrived to the tavern its occupants had increased substantially - everyone seemed to gather in this place to escape the storm. And it was friendly in here, dark and warm, smelled like good food - it was in the midst of a terrible hurricane of sand and water and lightning that the Sheikah came together and celebrated. Like a tradition.

He had never felt so alienated but welcome at the same time, stared at but bothered much less than he was back home, but he was bothered now - the space encroached, thighs closed in on the wooden bench. He didn't know what to do. He'd never felt so uncomfortable in a good way before.

And there was a moment where he could have done two things:

Get up and leave.

or..

Stay.

Initiating more would have its consequences.

And so he asked, "What's your name?"

Vermilion eyes was mid sip but his eyes flashed left regardless, a slow blink of feather black lashes stark against all those messy, linen-colored locks. He painted a rather ambivalent expression upon his features, but underneath they read one thing..

Victory.

And he rested his head in his right palm, a slight smile on his lips. "Sheik," he said.

Sheik.

"Who are you?" he asked to the one with red eyes.

And Sheik asked back, "Who are _you?_ "

He took a deep breath, bounced his knees a few times before responding, "Link."

"Link," Sheik slowly repeated, but laced with sticky sweet lyrical honey.

Oh Goddesses, who was this amidst the peaceful retreat he had planned on perishing in? Who was this, uplifting any and all made plans to fade away here, with no name, no purpose, nothing at all? And it was this subconscious fear that crept up his body - it was electric, glorious, foreign, unexpected, exciting.. and he didn't even know why.

They were just talking.

And it was a voice deep within his head that resonated while they conversed that told him to relax. To just, let go.

And he did.

This was his final stop, after all.

And the drinks kept coming, and they didn't talk about anything of much significance, but they neared closer more and more throughout the night, until their knees were touching, shoulders brushing. The space between them had closed and they spoke words in hushed whispers and just looked at one another.

It felt very hot in the room, and there was a flushed burning that wouldn't dissipate creeping up his neck and across his face.

It was the wine, he was sure of it.

They didn't learn any more of each other really, just watched the others in the inn, made simple jokes that sent them laughing more than was necessary. In their own little world. It was casual, and then it was something a little more. What is was exactly, he wasn't quite sure of yet.

It was very much later then after midnight when Link remembered he didn't know how to get home. He stood, a little wobbly as the alcohol rushed to his head, placed his hands against the table top to brace himself. A gentle hand rested itself then atop his own, and the voice beside him said, "Your place is on the way," and Sheik stood too, wrapped an arm around Link's shoulders and nudged him off toward the door.

They walked slowly through the tunnels, a bit unsteadily, veering slightly to the right, to the left. They were silent and the torches in the little alcoves crackled and dotted the corridors like beacons that seemed to go on forever.

If he weren't inebriated he'd have thought more about the arm around him, how it felt so much stronger than the body it belonged to looked, how it felt so natural to have this person guide him. How he trusted where vermilion eyes, or Sheik.. (he'd have to get used to that) was leading him as if it had happened some time before, in another place, in another time.

If he weren't inebriated he would have noticed how those eyes were steady upon him filled with a sublime fondness, festered hunger, pained desire, a sweet sadness. But it was there at a nondescript doorway that Sheik let go of Link, released him into the dark room, stood there as the other fumbled through the pitch-black, finally finding a lantern and lighting it. Stood there, relaxed against the door frame as Link disappeared into various rooms, exiting a final time shirtless and with pants of lightweight cotton and fell lazily onto the chaise. He lingered there until he was sure Link was sleeping, whispered a faint "Goodnight," at which he turned, closed the door softly behind him, and retreated into the dim familiar of the twisting corridors.


	3. 3

**3**

* * *

He had hoped to see him again.

And then again, he didn't.

The strange sensation most people would call anxiety or nervousness was an unaccustomed feeling for him. He had been called reckless, unafraid, jumping on a whim to engage in perilous deeds, adventures. Nothing had ever scared him, truly. He had been worried about his fairy friend years and years ago, executed caution in everything and anything that he did for those that required his help, but these emotions were fleeting as he always had believed in himself. Believed so purely without fail, and his actions were consistently rooted in good and therefore he had always solved whatever problems had been cast before him.

Even stopping a moon from falling.

They had called him very very brave. Courageous.

Even the few masks that he had hung on his wall could not cause him any apprehension. They were simply a reminder of the bad and the good that had come of it.

But this feeling.. this feeling was new.

It kind of made today exciting.

Which was very strange, because he was done. That's why he came here after all.. because he was done. With it all.

The skies outside were still dark grey, rain still coming down, the wind howling. He stood near his living room window and watched the storm for a while, sipping tea, the bright zig-zag patterns of lightning racing through the clouds. The damage on the first level outdoors looked extensive enough, debris littered the streets, a 3-inch or so layer of sand atop blown over tables, market stands, pathways. It looked like winter, but without the whiteness of snow.

He was disappointed to be stuck indoors, and the thought stayed with him even as he had left his home and navigated the interior pathways. He longed for more windows at least, but the architecture of this place excluded many of them, and for reasons why he could understand. He was not a stranger to the sands however - the many days and nights he spent journeying to this place had left him struggling to breathe, to survive, when the wild desert winds had swirled around him, filling his lungs. The dehydration, the lack of food. It was only with the Lens of Truth that he managed to see through the thick air, and while he was traversing it he had had a strange feeling that it wasn't the first time he had used the item in a desert before.

The Sheikah trackers, hunters, scavengers had left that morning, and he didn't see vermilion eyes for another two days. By that time the clouds had started to disperse and you could see rays of sunlight starting to break through and it had begun to feel warm outside again. There was still this dustiness to the air, the sand sprinkling down like sifted sugar, but nobody cared because they were all tired of being trapped indoors.

The medium-sized boat had docked near the beach, its white sails quite tall for its size, elegant like silk blowing on a clothes line on a summer's day. The townspeople had run to meet it bringing planks and baskets with them, and the men aboard the boat began lifting sacks and crates over the sides. Link set the broom he'd been using to sweep the sand-covered pathways against a nearby wall, and jogged lightly to the beach as well to help.

He noticed him aboard the boat leaning against its edge, tanned face and hair wind-swept, the light hood free from his head, tired and perspiring but with an enthused look upon his features. Link tried not to stare as he walked slowly across the beach to the boat's side, but it was like averting your gaze from the goddesses. Impossible.

Vermilion eyes caught him as he neared, and watched silently as Link slowed to greet him. There was an odd brilliance in those red eyes today and they sparkled with a hint of something in the irises; something a bit playful, mischievious. He noticed that Sheik did not smile much but his emotions were apparent although subdued, however those eyes of his were easy to read, like he'd read them a hundred times before.

"Storm's gone," Sheik said.

Link surveyed the sky with his eyes, the ocean's horizon, and nodded. "How was your trip?" he asked. He squinted to look at the other man higher up, the sun casting down directly into his vision. He raised a hand across his forehead to block the light, crystalline blue bright and reflective.

"Productive," he said and reached down to grab a burlap sack. He lifted it, said, "here," and tossed it Link's way over the guardrail. It was heavier than Link expected.

Sheik delegated the rest of the items off the boat, sorting through what went where and what went to whom. The rest of the Sheikah men aboard seemed to listen to him, respect his orders. The townspeople too, they did the same. He started to wonder just how important this guy was.

With the boat cleared Sheik met Link down on the beach, and they carried what was left together back to town.

He realized then that they didn't ever have to worry about filling silence. It was almost like Sheik was used to Link's quietness, and the wordless gaps which for most would feel awkward felt almost like a relief in a way. A usual friendship started this way would probably elicit to anyone else that there wasn't much in common.

For them, it felt like there was too much to talk about to even begin with.

And why Link felt compelled to follow Sheik, felt compelled to meet him on the beach was something rooted deep within his psyche that he didn't feel like trying to understand. But he followed him nonetheless, they waded through the thick sand and back into the stone-washed town, and just on the outskirts there vermilion eyes paused.

"You see that little island there, just off the coast?" he asked, pointing back behind them to the ocean.

And there it was, he could barely see it, slightly rocky with more of that wild grass growing in spurts atop it. "I do," Link said.

"Tomorrow morning, as the sun rises, I have to gather the wild berries that grow there," and as vermilion eyes said this he looked to Link very casually, as if there was no fear in what he was to say next. "Meet me right here, tomorrow at 6 AM and we will gather them together."

It wasn't a question, more like a command, and Link looked Sheik in the eyes, his own crystalline blue full of intrigue and perplexity. His lips smiled slightly, as if he were amused. "Okay," Link said.

Sheik said nothing for a moment, just studied the other man. "Can you swim?" he asked.

Could he swim? It was like asking if a Zora could swim. You could bet your life on it.

* * *

Vermilion eyes had stopped him just as Link had begun to walk the circular steps up to his home that night, tugging gently on his hand just around his fingers. The touch was feather light, but it halted him, and as he turned back around to face him Sheik only stared, body motionless, into the crystalline blue that peered at him questioningly.

After a moment or two of that telepathic thing that they've started to do, talking with just their eyes but none of it making much sense, Link felt the need to reassure the other man although he wasn't sure why. And so he said, "I'm just going to bed," as if vermilion eyes had been worried he were to do something else.

And those red eyes glanced up and over the city rooftops at the spiraled castle in the distance, lingered there, and then back to Link who waited patiently on the stairs to his home and asked, "and after that?"

Link leaned on the detailed iron railing beside him on the steps and patiently responded, "After that I'll be meeting you in the morning.. less than five hours from now, to be exact," and he smiled slightly, tired with a hint of teasing.

"And after that?"

"Well, after that I'm not too sure yet," he said.

And he was sure Sheik was going to ask him again, and he thought about it for a moment and it dawned on him that it seemed as if vermillion eyes wondered if Link were to end his life out here, in the city where desert met ocean.

Link smiled again, this time a little painfully and squeezed the other's hand, "'Night, Sheik," he said and started up the steps again, waved a little good-bye to Sheik from the balcony and entered his home for the night.

* * *

The sunrise was a thing to behold, vivid orange bursting out from the ocean's line.

He had started walking at 5:30, the town was quiet, everyone still asleep after yesterday's hard day of getting everything back together around the city.

Time had always made him feel uneasy, ever since.. well, back then. Clocks weren't really an item he liked to have an abundance of. Each new day, its sunrise, its sunset just reminded him of the time passing by, the memories he'd lost.

He glanced at the spiraled castle, wondered when it would be good to go inside it.

He could have headed straight there when he first got here, but he had procrastinated.

It loomed, its gilded tip reaching for the sky, pinpointing something there up in the heavens as if you climbed to the top of it you'd reach sanctuary.

And he sat there on the beach, in the sand, and waited. Watched the sun rise higher and higher until he was basking in its morning glow.

Vermilion eyes had arrived precisely at 6, his bare feet coming into Link's peripheral vision just to his right.

"Good morning," Sheik said softly, still standing, and before Link could say anything back the red-eyed Sheikah stripped himself of the loose grey cotton shirt he wore, pulling it over his slightly disheveled linen-colored hair and letting it fall to the sand.

He had scars too, an especially long one across his left bicep. His skin was tanned just like his face, warm-looking and hard wrapped around his muscle. He was not broad but his thinner structure was deceiving, for Link was sure that Sheik was very agile, very nimble. He looked powerful, and Link knew he was looking for too long, but all vermilion eyes said was,

"The clothes will weigh you down."

And those eyes studied him until Link stood, and in a sudden way Sheik came toward him, his hands near the bottom of the shirt and he pulled it up and over Link's head, undressing him in one quick motion. It caught him totally off guard.

"Come on," Sheik said, and with a sly glance he stole a peek at the other's naked torso before taking his hand and pulling him toward the water.

But it wasn't going to go down like that, oh no.

Link followed behind for a moment or two, but as soon as they reached the water he pulled firmly on the Sheikah's hand that was still in his own, yanked him back strong until that tight body came crashing into his own. And he saw the surprise flash across those vermilion eyes and he chuckled as he let go and took off to the ocean, running like hell.

He was swimming exceptionally well until he felt something grab his ankles, and the next thing he knew he was underwater, bubbles in his vision as he expunged air from his chest. He surfaced as quick as he could, saw Sheik two feet or so away from him, swimming fast, cutting the water sharp with his strides. Link re-centered himself and trudged onward again, until both boys hit land at the same time.

"You cheated," Link said, breathing heavy, dripping wet as he pulled himself onto the island.

"I can't help it if the sea creatures get you," Sheik said, pulling himself up as well.

Link stared at him with that 'you're so full of shit' look he was good at without having to say anything at all.

Vermilion eyes wasn't affected by the glare, and he stood in front of the other, searching. "You're fast," he said with a hint of something like disbelief.

They remained like this, just looking at each other until they both caught their breath.

"Where do you come from?" Sheik asked softly.

"Far away," Link said.

"I guessed that much," the Sheikah said and added, "what do you hope to find here?"

Link surveyed the little island for a moment and replied, "wild berries."

And it was the second time since the other night at the tavern that he was able to make vermilion eyes laugh, and it surely was a sight, teary-eyed and all. He regained his composure quickly however and finally said, "you're right. Let us find some wild berries." And a fleeting look upon his face spoke volumes just then, one that wasn't easy to decipher. It was an expression Link had never seen before on anyone and he was the cause of it, he just wasn't sure if it was good or bad.

It looked almost like when you have to say good bye, but you don't want to let go, but not exactly.

They spent almost all day on that little island, picked all the wild berries they could find. When Link thought they'd be ready to head back, vermilion eyes came in close and asked, "watch the stars with me?"

And he obliged.

The light from atop the spiraled castle's peak rotated around and around, illuminating sections of the incoming darkness from across the way. And they watched this light and gazed up at the stars as they began to reveal themselves and they were like this for over an hour, at least.

In the pitch black on the little island, the two rested on the soft wild grass saying not much at all, until Sheik said in a hushed but confident way,

"I like you, Link."

What did that mean? He felt glad the other liked him. He'd prefer that over not being liked!

And so he said, "I like you too."

They swam back after that, the ocean dark and inky black. The moon was full and large on this night and Link tried his best to keep it out of his mind, but in all of its terrible memory it cast a beautiful glow upon the now sleeping city, and shrouded in pale blue moonlight amidst the sand-dollar buildings Sheik said, "I don't want to waste another lifetime.." and before finishing the sentence he reluctantly said, "get some rest. Goodnight," instead of what he truly wanted to say.

And he looked back only for a second or so before leaving Link in the night.


	4. 4

**4**

* * *

His dreams that night were scattered, visions of his life and a lifetime before.

The theme of it all seemed to revolve around friendship - having friends, losing friends. He was reminded of the unlikely bonds he seemed to create with almost everyone he met, but how they had ended with good-byes almost as soon as they had begun.

He had usually been the one to initiate such friendships because most had been rooted in the quests he had to undertake. That didn't mean they were one-sided or selfish relationships, just ones that were time sensitive and a necessity both to himself and the others involved.

But he had always put his heart into each and every one of them, and had always been sad to walk away. And that was the thing - he never stayed around long. He was always being called by something from another world, being thrust into life or death scenarios.

There comes a time however when the calling just stops.

And that's what happened about four years ago. It had been an increasingly lonely time, and it felt like his purpose had just, disappeared altogether. He didn't know what to do with himself.

He didn't seek out friendships or relationships because he didn't need to and he did not know how to initiate them without a reason. He had never experienced love - the kind of love that's different than just caring for someone's well-being. The kind that Anju and Kafei had shared, and that had stuck with him ever since.

He saw vermilion eyes in the dream and he realized that Sheik had been the one to initiate everything between them thus far. And why? What was in it for him? Link didn't know what to do with Sheik because there wasn't a motive propelling the friendship.. he didn't need rescuing, he didn't need an item retrieved, he didn't want him to clear out any pesky monsters.

"I like you, Link," the voice wafted through his brain. "Link," it said again. "Touch me," it whispered.

It was kind of like an awakening, somewhere in his subconscious mind and somewhere in the depths of his physical body. It was like an alarm that triggered, a part of himself becoming aware, waking to attention. His dream took him to a place he'd never traveled, exploring new sensations and a heated body that screamed for his touch.

He never knew this was anything he wanted.

But he wanted it now.

During the day, when he was awake, he could control his emotions, where his mind went, what he thought about. Yet now, whilst he was asleep his dreamstate took advantage, showed him things he was aware of but too embarrassed to admit. Or try. Or need.

Needless to say once he woke that morning he was drenched in cold sweat with an erection not even the coldest of baths could quell. His body felt primal and even though he tried to calm his thoughts, to rationalize, his body had other things in mind.

He was good at torturing himself - not in a physical way but more like abstaining from things that he would need in favor of what was good for everyone else, or the world, for that matter. And this was stressful now, because this thing called lust was different than any other emotion or need he had ever abstained from.

It made a hero's job seem easy.

* * *

He chopped the wood and sharpened blades as hard as he could, built up a nice layer of sweat that gleamed off his forehead and arms.

He was feeling quite frustrated, this pent up sensation that he wanted to release.

The wood didn't stand a chance as his axe pummeled through it, slicing through it one clean swipe. Once he was through with what he'd brought, he took the firewood to the inn and headed out again to the east of the city, where some vegetation had grown near the water.

When he got close to the fertile area, he swore he heard vermilion eyes in the distance. And then he'd found him, at the beachy area past the green, training with the other men from the boat. The other Sheikah were impressive, he'd give them that, but he kept his attention on Sheik who seemed to be in a world of his own.

The way vermilion eyes stretched wasn't like anything he'd ever seen before, bending and contorting during multiple backwards tumbles that took Link's mind back to the place from his dream that he'd been running from all afternoon.

He wanted to touch all the sinewy muscle that rippled through the tight uniform he wore, wanted to grip his supple behind.

And he left then in disbelief of the images that flashed through his mind, felt bad for thinking these thoughts about his new friend. And so he walked slowly back, angry at himself, and continued to chop more firewood like his life depended on it.

* * *

"Link," Sheik had breathed as he came near, "I'd been looking for you."

It was in the smaller tavern inside the maze of passageways that Link sat at a corner table, dimly lit. It was busy tonight and he had hoped to fade into the background and so he asked, "how'd you find me?"

And vermilion eyes responded, "I followed your scent."

Link laughed gently, ignoring the heat that rushed to his groin. Go away, he willed it, and then his face felt flushed too, so all he could do was take another sip of wine and look away.

Sheik sat down beside him, waved down the girl with the drinks and ordered one for himself. "Do you want to know what you smell like?" he asked.

And like bait on a hook Link turned to his left a bit more to face him, and vermilion eyes leaned in on the bench beside him and said, "like someone I wanted to see again."

Fuck was a term he'd heard many times throughout his life from various people he'd encountered on his journeys and he'd learned that it usually meant one or two things:

Damn it, curse it all to hell, or a more vulgar way of saying 'shit!',

or

Pounding someone's insides until their head explodes. Not literally.

Strangely enough, he felt like both definitions summed up what he was feeling pretty well at that moment and if going to the beach today was the catalyst for these feelings, he wished he had never went.

He hoped the hot sensation wasn't revealing itself across his face as intensely as he felt it, and all he could do was bounce his knee, play with his hair haphazardly for a second or two and finally rest his chin in his hand as he maintained eye contact with the Sheikah.

But vermilion eyes played oblivious.

They toasted to their successful excursion collecting the wild berries, Link toasted to Sheik's safe trip back home. And after drinking two glasses or so of wine, they spoke only in hushed Sheikah, Sheik challenging Link's knowledge on the exotic language.

Link sat with his back relaxed against the wall in the tight corner of the tavern, vermilion eyes slightly entangled in the other's proximity and after a while of spoken Sheikah he said,

"Mi ara tu a lavi sala."

"I.. I don't know that one, Sheik," Link said slowly while trying to think, working the words he knew out loud saying, "I want you to... 'something' me. I'm sorry, I don't know what 'lavi' means. Never heard it before." He laughed gently, face still flushed. He felt very aware of himself in a terribly awkward way.

"I'll teach you later," vermilion eyes said, and after a sip from his glass he added curiously, "you seem preoccupied tonight."

Link raised his eyebrows in false confusion, shrugged forcefully. "Oh?" he said.

"Something on your mind?"

Link shook his head slowly. "Nope," he started but realized how out of character it was for him. He never lied. So he added, "Well, there's always things on my mind." Which was true.

"Anything that I could help with?" Sheik asked.

Link took a very deep breath. "You've been nothing _but_ helpful and I guess I should thank you for that, because.. well, I haven't done that yet." Phew, dodged that arrow.

"How have I been helpful? Sometimes I wonder if I am just pestering you. I'm sure you have more important things to do than play with me in the ocean," Sheik said, nudging Link softly with his elbow.

Damn he was cute. In a lethal sort of way.

"I know you're important, Link," vermilion eyes said, looking straight into crystalline blue.

Link sighed.

"I know who you are," Sheik said.

Would that change things?

"Yeah? And who's that?" Link asked, a little nervously.

Sheik's knee nudged Link's under the table, bumping gently once or twice. "You know, I've been waiting a long time for someone like you," he started, changing the subject. "I'm going to be honest with you - I am a traveler too, and I've been searching for the truth and my purpose my whole life. Just as I gather you have, as well. I'm not sure if what I will say next will resonate with you, but I am very intuitive, so I will just say this and it will be the only time I'll speak of it.." and he takes another sip of wine, setting the glass down carefully before continuing. "In my first life, I was from Hyrule. I had an important duty then and my days were numbered. In this life, I'm from here and it's a very different one than the last. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

Link nodded hesitantly, slowly.

"Some things we aren't meant to forget," he continued. "Sometimes things just don't work out the first time around." He touched his glass, rotated it so the wine left at the bottom swirled around and around. "But it doesn't mean that this life isn't worth living."

"You were from Hyrule? What ha -" Link started, but was hushed with fingers to his lips from the man seated beside him.

"It doesn't matter anymore," Sheik said. "Keep drinking with me, Link," he said in a lighter tone, "I want to get lost with you tonight."

And they spoke no more of serious matters at all after that, and the burning Link had felt in his groin earlier had been replaced with a different kind of intensity, a different kind of feeling. He couldn't pinpoint it, but it felt something like just wanting to be..

close.

And later in the passageways they walked together back to their homes in its candlelit interior, and they were silent the whole way until, out of nowhere, Sheik grabbed Link by the shoulders and pushed him hard, flat up against one of the walls.

"Stop," he said, slight exasperation detected in his voice. He didn't look at Link in this eyes this time, focused his attention somewhere near the other's collar bone. His fingers tightened onto the fabric, squeezing.

Link stalled, deep breathing and a focused expression on his face. He didn't move, didn't push vermilion eyes away.

"I'm.. really having a hard time with this," Sheik whispered, his body pressing ever closer. "I am trying to keep my hands off you but it's getting really fucking difficult." He shook his head, still avoided eye contact, squeezed ever tighter on Link's shoulders. "I'm sorry," he cried softly.

Link was surprised to hear what Sheik just admitted. He felt tongue-tied and he didn't know what to do. His head felt foggy and he could feel time ticking away, this short window of opportunity that he didn't want to mess up for good.

And that courage kicked in at just the right moment, he felt that familiar swell in his chest that hadn't ever done him wrong, and he said,

"I'm really attracted to you, Sheik."

And vermilion eyes glanced up quickly, wide-open. "Holy shit," he said and he was paralyzed.

"Let me help you," Link said softly, and he leaned in close, his breath like wispy tendrils across the other's face, and he said, "you know, I think I understand what 'lavi' meant," he began, and his lips, the softest of skin, slightly wet and blushed brushed against Sheik's own and he asked, "Beni tu ara mi a lavi sala?" His left hand feathered up and behind Sheik's neck and into the nape of his hair.

"Yes," Sheik whispered, "a thousand times, yes."

He laughed gently, lips so close and said, "I don't really know what I'm doing.. but I hope you won't mind."

"I won't mi -" and that was all Sheik could manage before Link's lips came crashing down upon his, eager, hungry, exploring, forceful. So forceful in fact, that Sheik's back hit the opposite wall and he was pinned..

and he loved it.

They kissed as if they were tasting the most delicious of foods, kissed as if their lips would never touch again.

And it was like boom, the explosion of firecrackers, sparkling heat that radiated through their bodies and it sent bolts to their very core, the friction of their bodies melded together like a burning, craving.. like two people who yearned to do this before but never got the chance.

Their erect cocks rubbed together between the two bodies that had become inseparable, and Sheik gasped at the sensation, grabbed Link's ass in response which made Link hungrier, hungrier - devouring, tasting the inside of the Sheikah's mouth.

They were out of breath, the kisses slowed after a time, and they simply stayed there in the little dimly lit corridor, holding onto each other, out of breath.

They were still aroused, but were unsure of how far to go, and so they stared at each other with newly kindled passion and thoughts racing through their minds.

They didn't know what to say, didn't know if they should speak at all, didn't know how to leave one another for the night. Didn't know if they should.

So Sheik opened Link's door near them and pushed him inside and said, "if I come in too I don't know what I'd do." As if he were an animal not sure if he could control himself. And he looked at Link in the darkness of the entryway, messy, disheveled, swollen lips, and he lingered there for a moment and then turned and took off down the corridor before he'd lose what was left of his willpower.


	5. 5

**5**

* * *

It was a hard day on the boat. There wasn't a storm, no difficulties out at sea, it was just a really hard day out there on the boat with four other Sheikah, vermilion eyes, and himself.

It was close quarters all day long.

Link and Sheik remained on opposite sides of the deck working in pairs with the others catching fish in nets, collecting supplies and produce from a small network of uninhabited islands. As the men scrambled with some particularly heavy nets, hoisting them up over the sides required the strongest of the crew, which happened to be Link and the red-eyed Sheikah.

To say that things were a little awkward would be an understatement, but it was a funny kind of awkward, and as soon as they got close to one another their bodies were like magnets and even an accidental bump to the shoulder had both boys blushing red.

"Sorry," Link had said as their arms got quite tangled on one of the nets, the ropes cutting into their skin, the forcefulness at which they landed back to back on the deck after the net had come up and over, making them fall in tandem onto the water soaked wood.

The other Sheikah had run over to help, with both boys in unison saying, "we're okay!" as they scrambled to their feet. Link reached over to grab Sheik's hand to help him up and once it was in his, vermilion eyes glanced at him like ruby sex and he whispered, "Thanks, handsome," in Link's ear before quickly returning to his position at the other side of the deck.

Link could feel the fire across his face spread all the way to the tips of his ears.

"What's wrong, Hylian?! Sea sick?" one of the Sheikah man asked, laughing lightly.

"Something like that!" Link grumbled from across the way, bent over the side with another net in his hands. Sweet goddesses when would this ever end.

* * *

He stood in front of the elaborate gate made of iron and polished blue glass and fixated his eyes upon the spiraled castle that lay behind it.

There was a distinct hum vibrating from it, not exactly a sound but more like a frequency, and it mesmerized him, calmed him. He pushed on the gate but it didn't budge, locked from the inside, from what it looked like.

It kind of made him angry, that he couldn't go inside of his own choosing. Such a personal thing.. and to have to ask for permission to enter, well..

it didn't sound too appealing.

Perhaps that was on purpose.

He pushed on the gate one more time with extra force just for spite and scowled as he walked away from it. Typical, he thought. There's always a key to a castle, always a key to a dungeon. He played out a scenario in his mind of a quest he'd have to endure in the town, just to obtain the key. Trading items? Collecting bottles? Winning at archery? A race around the city?

He shuddered.

Maybe there was an easier way..

Maybe if he could get Sheik to understand, he would let him in.

But that was the problem now, wasn't it? Now, there's Sheik. And before Sheik, well, he had been more inclined to enter the spiraled castle. He had had nothing left.

He continued thinking all the way back to town, down the pebble-paved trail that led up to the castle and back to the center market. And when he got there he saw the townspeople carrying crates of food and colorful yarn, ribbons and banners.

He approached one of the Sheikah, "Excuse me," he said, "what's going on?"

"Hello Hylian," the woman said, "it's the celebration for the Summer Solstice. We have one every year. Takes place in the Center Spoke." She handed him a crate, "Here," she continued, "help me with this, would you?"

He nodded, took the full crate with ease into his arms, and as they started to walk he asked, "where is the Center Spoke?"

"You haven't been there yet? I'm surprised. You see, this whole city is designed like a giant wheel, with all those little passageways inside like the spokes. The Center Spoke is in the middle of it all, and it's like a giant courtyard where the sun and moon shine brightest."

"Bigger than the marketplace?" he asked.

"Oh yes," she said, "you'll see."

And they continued walking for a time until Link said, "I mean no disrespect, but back in Hyrule and even during my time spent in Termina, I had never seen another Sheikah. When did all of you come here?"

She smiled at him. "There were only a few of us left after the war many many years ago. Legend has it that they conversed with the goddesses, and Farore guided them across the desert sands with her wind magic - blew the dust storms away so they could see a clear path! We've been here ever since, rebuilding our race, our culture, our name. But we stay away from everyone, and with no disrespect to you.."

"Link," he said.

"No disrespect to you Link, but we stay clear of Hylians the most."

"That's understandable."

"You're very agreeable," she mused.

"I try," he said, smiling, and added, "Can you tell me about Sheik?"

"Well what to you want to know?" she asked.

They reached the Center Spoke, traveled a bit further down and stopped at a food stand near its perimeter. She set the crate she had been carrying down and gestured for Link to place the one he'd been carrying anywhere he'd like.

"I'm not sure," he said, bending down to place the crate beside the stand, "I just want to know more about him."

She sighed as she took some decorations, dark blue colored ribbons and as she had begun to wrap them around the post of the stand she said, "wrap the other side and I'll tell you."

He nodded and grabbed another spool, started wrapping the ribbon around the base of the post first while he watched her.

"Sheik is the commander of the trackers, responsible for pretty much all that sustains us here and whatever else we ship for trade. Comes from the Old Blood, the original Sheikah. Has strong family lineage. All that us New Born know about the ways of the old is linked to what the remaining Old Blood have been able to pass down to us."

Link listened intently, wrapping the ribbon slowly. "The New Born are.." he started to ask.

"All who haven't been here before," she finished.

"Haven't been here before?"

"First-timers, Link."

"You mean -"

She peeked at him from around the post she'd been working on. "Not reincarnated," she said.

"Oh. So you're -"

"Yes, I'm pretty young for a Sheikah. Only seventeen years. First-timer."

"And Sheik?" he asked.

"Hmm.." she paused for a moment, leaned on the post, looked up at the sky where the sun had started to set, and squinted her eyes in thought. "Why don't you just ask him tonight? It's his birthday tomorrow anyway. We always celebrate it on the Solstice. A bit early but why decorate two days in a row if we can do it all in one day?"

"It's his birthday tomorrow?!" Link asked, eyes wide.

"Sure is."

"Why didn't he say anything?"

"You're asking me?!"

"Oh," he said, bashfully. "I'm sorry, it's not your fault."

She laughed. "Better go get him something if you didn't already," she said melodically.

"I gotta go then!" he exclaimed, getting up and setting the spool of ribbon down in haste on the wooden counter.

"Hey, you're not done!"

"I'll make it up to you!" he yelled as he had already started to run, and where to, he didn't know.

He jogged through the outdoor pathways, searched the shops and vendors for something that piqued his interest. But it was all so meaningless.

And he wanted Sheik to remember him.

That was it! Memories.

He switched directions quickly, headed back through the busy streets to his home on the far edge of town. He raced up the circular steps, threw open the blue-stained front door, went straight to a desk that sat against the bedroom wall. He opened the drawer and pulled a small pouch out, and inside that he found the tiny box.

It was a pendant, blue and gold, hung on a simple rope.

The Pendant of Memories, Kafei had called it, a gift, and it had held all of his affection for the girl he loved most, Anju, inside of it. Once they were married Anju had given it back to Link who was ten or eleven at the time, and she had told him, "this is for someone special. You'll know who it is."

He didn't need to give vermilion eyes the details. He simply wanted to make him happy.

And there it was, and he stopped himself.

He wanted to make Sheik happy.

What did that mean?

But he didn't have time to think about it, so he raced outside and back to the Central Spoke with night time encroaching like the hands on a big wooden clock.


	6. 6

**6**

* * *

The festivities were a sight to behold. Lanterns strung across the pavillion, bonfires of magic - flames of blue and red. Ribbons streamed from stand to stand, food and drinks abound. Paper masks adorned the faces of many of the Sheikah, white with the single red eye painted large and placed center. There was plenty of chatter, music, and dancing, and Link leaned against a large pole at the perimeter of the pavilion, one out of four that held a large blue fabric awning that draped over the entire square.

He held a drink in his hand, smiled contently as he watched the party-goers.

It reminded him of Clock Town and the celebration of the final day, the final day when the moon rose back into the sky.

And it didn't bother him this time. It was nostalgic, familiar. It made him feel old and he thought about all the time that had passed. But it wasn't a sad thought, not really. He couldn't quite decide what it was.

"Would you mind some company?"

He snapped out of his thoughts, turned his head quickly to the right to see vermilion eyes standing there, in a tight-fitting suit of various blues, a red Sheikah eye on white fabric that draped over his chest. There was a cowl that covered half of his face, and because of this his eyes were dominant, shining bright and strong, full of emotion.

Link shook his head. "Not at all," he said.

Sheik sauntered over closer, leaned against Link's right arm as they both kept their eyes directed at the party. "I'm glad I have you alone," Sheik said softly. "I've been working all day, even after we docked earlier this morning, and all I could think about was getting to spend time with you."

"So you missed me, then," Link stated, a bit teasingly.

"Maybe."

"Nice outfit."

"Oh, this?" Sheik asked, looking down at his clothes, his arms. "I have to wear this once a year."

"It's sexy."

"Is it?" his slight laughter hummed underneath the cowl.

"Makes your eyes stand out."

"That all?"

"The rest of you doesn't look too bad either," Link said, nudging the Sheikah with his elbow.

Vermilion eyes looked at him, made Link turn his eyes to face him too, and Sheik said, "I like being far away with you.. how you always choose the spot furthest from everybody else." He turned more to face Link, his mouth still covered, red eyes gleaming, "I want to disappear with you, Link."

Link gazed at him, crystalline blue eyes blinking softly. He understood.

But instead he said, "You can't disappear tonight. Not on your birthday."

Sheik sighed. "Who told you?"

"Someone who made me string ribbon around a wooden post."

Sheik laughed gently, its sound muffled by the fabric. "You did a good job," he said, "it looks great."

"Thanks," Link said, laughing a bit too.

"Link," Sheik started, his left hand weaving its way around Link's back, pressing lightly against his spine, "follow me home tonight." Vermilion eyes searched crystalline blue, wavering, brows slightly creased. "After the fireworks, we'll leave," he said.

Link nodded slowly, silent like a guarded secret. That spark was back in his groin, it pulsated, made him want to leave with Sheik right then and there.

"Come on," Sheik said, took Link's hand, pulled him into the crowd, they held their drinks up high in the air to fit through the bodies that filled the ornately tiled center.

"Sheik!" a Sheikah man had yelled, grabbed hold of vermilion eyes' arm, "a drink to you and the Solstice!"

Sheik looked at Link briefly, rolled his eyes and clanked the man's glass in turn, both taking a large swig of its contents.

"You too, Hylian," the man continued, shaking Link's shoulder, "drink up!"

And it was Link's turn to roll his eyes, but he clanked his glass with the man and Sheik anyway, and they all took another sip.

This happened again too many times to count as they worked their way to the other side, and Sheik kept his hand firmly around Link's as he led him through the crowd.

* * *

Finally they reached an iron bench secluded enough by small potted plants, and Sheik pushed Link forward and onto the seat. He walked over slowly himself, and brought each knee around Link's legs, straddled the other's lap, wrapped his arms around Link's neck. He pulled his cowl down and placed his lips against the other's, and before fully kissing him he said, "I've been wanting this all night."

It started out soft but intensified, open-mouthed and Link could taste the sweetness of wine on the Sheikah's tongue. And Sheik's body was so close, sitting right there, that Link wanted to reach and touch him, and he did - his fingers entangled themselves into those linen-colored locks, held his face tight, cupped his jawline. Trailed down his neck and onto his chest, placed his hands under the white fabric that draped across vermilion eyes' chest. Pressed onto the biceps there firm, and roamed down, down intentionally to his thighs, at which he rubbed up and down, close, close to the area that Sheik wanted him to touch most.

Sheik murmured, a purr that vibrated through his mouth, and it was a breathy "Link" that escaped his voice as he pulled away for air.

The fireworks shot up into the sky, cascading shimmers of bright gold and white, and it had been an hour or so that they had been there, lackadaisically exploring each other, hidden from sight.

As soon as the third firework appeared against the dark, starry sky, the boys stood and Sheik led Link again quickly through a pathway away from the center. It was unlit and void of any people, and they staggered slightly through the dark.

"This way," vermilion eyes whispered, pulling him hard left through a smaller passage, and a right after that a few moments later. They ended at a corner house, too dark to see much, and Sheik rushed up the steps and unlocked the door. Link took the steps slightly slower, walking up, up to the open door, his heart racing in his chest.

His courage was there, but this was a different kind of courage.

And inside the modest entry way, Sheik stood, relaxed against the wall and arms folded, in the almost darkness - candles lit throughout the scattered rooms but dark nonetheless - he stood in full regalia, cowl across his face again and said, "This didn't happen the first time around." His red eyes were like little flares, luminous. They shone amidst the dark in an almost eerie way, and all Link could do was follow them, walking slowly still through the hall.

As he neared, Sheik continued, "I can't live another lifetime without feeling you inside me."

And as Link silently enclosed upon the Sheikah's space, his figure grandiose, almost suppressing Sheik with his radiant stature, vermilion eyes whispered, "I've spent a long time mustering up the courage to speak to you this way. I wanted this time to be different. So.." he paused for a moment, his chest rising and falling heavily, deep, erratic breaths. Cowl moving in slight puff, puffs around his mouth. "I'm going to say this now because I am unafraid, and I know what I want."

Sheik grabbed Link's shirt, yanked him close, and the Sheikah's eyes were like fire when he growled,

"I want you to fuck me, hero."

The echo of Sheik's words resonated throughout every limb, throughout his nerves, his brain, his heart. He couldn't say he understood exactly what Sheik meant about 'wanting this time to be different', but he understood the rest. But there was something vermilion eyes didn't know too, so Link spoke slowly, gently to him, let the hands on his shirt remain there, clenching.

"This isn't like me either, but there was something about you that grabbed me from the start." He stopped for a moment before continuing, "I came here to die, Sheik."

And vermilion eyes simply watched without surprise.

"But," Link said, "you gave me a reason not to. So," he paused, glancing around the darkness, a smile sneaking its way upon his features, "where do you want to do this?"

Sheik snatched up his hand, encircled it with his fingers. "This way," he said softly with a tilt of his head.

The boys wandered slowly through the halls and into the bedroom, where Sheik let go of his hand and sauntered backwards until he reached the foot of the bed, at which he sat, leaned back on his elbows, right foot lazily dangling off the edge of the mattress.

Link, cast only in the glow of candlelight, walked forward, removed his shirt quickly and threw it hastily to the corner of the room. He looked down at Sheik and asked, "You gonna keep all that on?"

"For awhile," he said. "I have my reasons."

Link reached the foot of the bed and crawled languidly on top of the Sheikah, forcing vermilion to scoot back as he closely hovered over him. "Does this have to do with the whole 'lifetime' thing?" he asked.

Sheik looked up at him and breathily said, "something like that."

"Hmm," Link murmured, his eyes trailing over the succumbed Sheikah's form. "Happy Birthday," he whispered.

It was a short moment then when they only gazed at each other, noses centimeters away, foreheads almost flush together. It was like they were soaking up the moment, creating a memory they'd never forget.

"Touch me, Link," vermilion eyes breathed.

And so he did.

He didn't waste any time, palmed Sheik's cock that lay hard and smothered underneath the tight bodysuit. It twitched under his fingertips, and vermilion eyes gasped, muffled under the cowl. Link's hand remained there, rubbing, squeezing lightly, as he lifted his head and stretched to meet Sheik's lips with his own.

The beads of sweat that had started to enumerate upon the Sheikah's forehead were telling, linen-colored strands of hair beginning to stick to the perspiration. Sheik touched the cowl, pulled it down haphazardly, his lips exposing themselves, open with short breaths, glistening wet.

Link's lips met the Sheikah's, and they kissed, mouths moving in tandem. Slow, unhurried movements. Rhythmic. Sheik's hands lightly brushed across Link's arms and chest, feeling, touching, exploring. They went into Link's hair, caressing, pulling.

It was not long after that Sheik reached for the shawl and the cowl, removing them. Tugged at the hem of the top piece of his bodysuit and lifted it up and over his head. And Link went down to this newly shown skin, sucked and kissed all across his chest and down, down more to his navel. The Sheikah squirmed and his muscles rippled, sweat there too like tiny pearls, a sheen of silky wetness reflected by the glow of the dim light in the room.

And after a moment or two, Link brought his body up, still kneeling, straddling the waist of the horizontal Sheikah, his gauzy cotton pants stretching, tented around his cock. Sheik reached for the waistband, pulling it over and down, the manhood there springing out, free from its restrictions.

And it was glorious.

Sheik touched it lightly with the tips of his fingers, the length bobbing, swelled like electricity flowed through its veins. And he glanced up at Link who gazed with glassy eyes down upon him, and those red eyes filled with a hunger that read,

There's no going back now.

Vermilion eyes wrapped his mouth around it in one quick motion, and Link had to grasp onto the other's shoulder lest he lose his balance entirely. The utterance that came from between Link's lips was primal, from deep within his diaphragm.

The vacuum sensation created around it was strong, and Sheik grasped onto either side of Link's ass to keep him steady as he continued sucking, licking, tasting. The only sounds from the man's voice below were muffled hums and murmurs, inhales and exhales from his nose.

And with a slick pop he let go, laying back down fully to start pulling down the pants of his bodysuit.

Link helped him pull the rest off from his legs, over his feet, and he placed his hands then on the Sheikah's lower legs, sliding them up, up over his knees and onto his thighs. His body moved with this motion, lying flatter and flatter until he was resting just upon him, and once he was there he took Sheik's straining member into his left hand and with a rolling rhythm he pumped and stroked.

The stars that shone in those vermilion eyes were probably very much akin to what the Sheikah was seeing himself - little white explosions in his vision like the flickering dust from the fireworks from earlier that night.

And once Link had massaged it thoroughly, he returned the favor, placed his lips around it, suction down, up, down, and even further down to the base. He stayed there for a moment, the entire length in his mouth, voiced an indistinct 'mmm' and came back up. Worked it good.

Sheik's legs were up and bent a bit at his knees, held them there tightly with his arms as Link went down. He grasped the cheeks and pushed them apart, brought his lips to the hole there and went to town.

"Fuck.." vermilion eyes cried from atop the bed, eyes closed, mouth open, panting.

A finger replaced it, Link leaned back over Sheik and said, "I want to see you." He watched the series of expressions that flashed across the other's face as he rotated his index finger around, pulling in, pulling out. And after that he went back down, wet him some more, stuck his tongue deep inside, and he repeated this process about two times more.

Vermilion eyes was a wreck, all of that Sheikah code about being calm, cool, and collected was thrown out the window. He writhed and whimpered and shouted obscenities until Link's cock pushed inside his entrance, nice and slow, and all Sheik could do was grasp onto Link's arms and hold on for dear life.

They rocked the bed, skin slapping against skin. Wet and sticky. Link encompassed him with his body, pounded back and forth with his mid-section, nice fluid motions, rolling of his hips.

If vermilion eyes could have found a way to get him deeper he would have, so to suffice he wrapped his hands around Link's ass and pushed himself closer, and Link panted, started moving faster.

And to correctly explain the positions used that night would be difficult, because Sheik could bend his body in ways Link had never seen. He spread himself wide, opened himself up, offered his body to the man he'd missed out on the first time around. He'd let him have all of it. Every inch.

And Link took him, ravaged him with care, spilled his seed inside of him and vermilion eyes came as well.

It wasn't like one of the love story fairy tales where they cuddled together after that, whispered sweet nothings, admitted their affection.

They didn't have to.

They simply laid together, side by side and breathed, Link's left hand and Sheik's right held loosely, fingers intertwined. In the dark they were silent and they just let the feelings wash over them - one thought the strongest of all:

Finally.


	7. 7

**7**

* * *

The Pendant of Memories shone brightly in the sun, strung around his neck, the jewel atop his chest. Sheik glanced to the spiraled castle as they neared it, walking hand in hand.

He touched the silvery blue glass, pushed the gate open easily.

Link with an expression like 'really?' on his face as he shook his head and walked through.

They strolled through the courtyard, the white pebbled path leading to the castle's entrance.

They took their time.

And inside Link felt a familiar rush of exploring such interiors, like the many he had explored in his life before.

They walked the porcelain steps to the top, stood before a statue framed with light by the large window behind it, and Link waited there, quiet.. head down.

"This is what you want?" Sheik asked as he waited there patiently.

"I don't know anymore," Link said.

Sheik tapped his foot lightly against the porcelain, thinking. Finally he said, "It wasn't what you think it was, Link. You'll have your lost memories, but at a price." He neared a bit closer to Link and added, "The memories of this life hurt you already. Think about what an extra lifetime of memories would do."

"Did it end badly?" he asked.

"Yes," Sheik said.

And after a long while of silence in the spiraled castle's hall, they left together with a promise.

Sheik promised to tell Link of his life before, and Link promised to tell Sheik of his second life that the other hadn't been a part of.

Until now.

They spent the rest of the day sitting on the beach together, talked about forging new memories, planned to experience new things, new adventures with one another.

And that is how they'd spend the rest of their days - his second chance was better after all.


End file.
